


Upon First Impressions

by KucatsHouse



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Book 1: City of Bones, M/M, POV Alec Lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 14:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19793293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KucatsHouse/pseuds/KucatsHouse
Summary: The first meeting of Magnus and Alec, from Alec's point of view.





	Upon First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Characters and story concept the property of Cassandra Clare.
> 
> Additional Notes:  
> -This story fic encompasses chapters 12-13 in City of Bones.  
> -99% of the spoken dialogue is directly from the book and I do not claim any of it.  
> -Everything in italics are Alec's mental thoughts.  
> -I wrote this in 2 days and it is the longest fic I've written in such a short amount of time.

_Brooklyn. I hate Brooklyn. The invitation said it’s a Downworlder party. Oh, and a mundane is tagging along on this mission._

Three things he disliked in one setting.

This was not how Alec Lightwood thought he would be spending his night.

With his back to the wall, Alec slouched against the Sanctuary entryway as he, Jace, and the mundane waited for the girls to finish getting ready. His arms were crossed and he was attempting to ignore Simon, who was standing uneasily nearby in one of Alec’s borrowed jeans. Jace had forced the mundane to turn his shirt inside out to look less like, well, a mundane; it wasn’t really working. Jace was slouched next to him, looking just as bored but Alec knew better. The prospect of going to a Downworlder party meant the potential for a fight, and Jace was always ready for a fight. 

Simon made a little nervous shuffling noise, which was followed by the distinct clicking sound of heels on concrete. Alec turned to see Isabelle and Clary making their way towards them. He suppressed a sigh of annoyance as Simon and Jace began to pay far too much attention to Clary’s attire. 

_What is all the damn fuss? It’s not as if anything is hanging out for the world to see. It’s a practical choice, and she’ll blend in just fine. There were still plenty of places to hide weapons - not that she knows how to use them properly._

As Jace handed Clary a dagger, Alec pushed off the wall and headed for the doors, impatience and annoyance getting the better of him.

“We should go,” he called over his shoulder before stepping outside. He didn’t bother to wait and see if the others followed him as he made his way towards the station.

For Simon’s sake and at Clary’s insistence, the three Shadowhunters didn’t use glamours as they rode the train, which made them all a little irritable. The train ride from the Upper East Side to Greenpoint wasn’t a long one but it was a terse silent one, the group of them sitting or standing ramrod straight and looking anywhere but at each other. As they reached their station, the five teenagers spilled out with the crowd, bodily pushing their way through at times, and quickly made their way above ground.

Isabelle already had her Sensor out as they reached the street level; she alternated between consulting the device and the glittery invitation in her other hand. Simon walked beside her, speaking animatedly about something that Alec thought to be mundane and trivial. Isabelle seemed to be humoring him, nodding politely and laughing. Alec was fairly certain she had no idea what Simon was talking about. Behind him, Jace was teasing Clary about demons attacking her if she were left alone. Alec strolled in the middle of their group, hands in his pockets. His gait was casual but his eyes darted side-to-side, senses alert for trouble.

“This is the right street!”

Isabelle was all smiles and charged energy as she waved at them impatiently. Quickening his pace at the sound of his sister’s call, Alec had nearly reached her in a handful of strides. As he approached, he glanced to his left and stopped dead. His eyes went wide with surprise and bewilderment when he caught sight of the motorcycles. There were almost a dozen of them, sleek and black, menacing with their warped pipes and demonic energies. Their presence screamed dangerous and deadly but, in their own way, they were beautiful. Alec couldn’t help but stare in fascinated fixation, turning away only at the sound of approaching feet.

“Jace!” Alec called, pointing at the bikes. “Think we’re in the right place?” He only listened with half an ear as his siblings explained vampire bikes to the others. Alec was wondering what it would be like to actually ride one. “I’ve heard some of the bikes can fly. Or go invisible at the flick of a switch. Or operate underwater.” There was a part of him that knew that the latter two were probably false, but Alec didn’t care. 

_I wonder what it would feel like, flying through the air riding a bike fueled on demonic energy. The Clave frowns on such things. I could get in so much trouble for this…_

_It might be worth it._

A flicker of movement caught his attention. Alec shook himself back to reality in time to see Jace remove his hand from one of the bikes. There was something small and made of glass in his parabatai’s palm, disappearing from sight as Jace turned his wrist. “What are you doing?” Jace merely gave him a sly smile before Isabelle hurriedly ushered them to the building.

Alec didn’t know much about warlocks, but he expected better living arrangements from someone who claimed to be a High Warlock. The five of them were crowded in an entryway that smelled of stale vomit and old alcohol. With a shiny lacquered nail, Isabelle pressed the buzzer below the name BANE. Silence followed. She pressed it again, her face screwing up in annoyance. Before she could reach for the buzzer a third time, and potentially annoy someone, Alec grabbed for her wrist.

“Don’t be rude,” he said, looking at his sister meaningfully.

“Alec…” There was a warning note in Isabelle’s voice, but before she could finish the door flew open. It hit the wall hard, making a banging sound loud and sharp enough that both siblings visibly jumped. Isabelle took the opportunity to pull her hand out of Alec’s grasp and turn to the new arrival with a smile that normally melted men at a mere glance. “Magnus? Magnus Bane?”

“That would be me.”

Alec’s head snapped around at the sound of the voice; it was slightly deep with a timber to it that Alec found he couldn’t ignore. He stood rigid as he took in his first sight of the High Warlock of Brooklyn framed in the doorway. The man was tall and lean, cutting a striking figure in jeans tight enough to leave little to the imagination. Beneath his many buckled shirt were broad shoulders and toned arms crossed over his chest in annoyance. Under a layer of glitter was bronze skin seeming to glow of its own accord. Dark hair was spiked high above carefully applied rings of charcoal eye glitter and blue lip paint, the cosmetics accentuating the warlock’s handsome features. 

_I wonder what he would look like without all the make up…_

“Children of the Nephilim,” Magnus said, his voice bored and exasperated. His eyes lit upon each of them, one at a time. The eyes were a golden hue with flecks of green and had a cat-like quality owed to the slitted pupils. They seemed to linger on Alec a little longer than the rest - or perhaps that was merely wishful thinking. Magnus swept a heavy ringed hand through his hair. Alec felt his fingers twitch as he watched the motion. “Well, well. I don’t recall inviting you.”

He remained silent, not trusting himself to speak, as Isabelle stepped forward and presented the invitation. Magnus regarded it for a moment, debating whether to let them in. He seemed to have made up his mind as he stepped aside and made some vague comment about the group not murdering his guests. 

As they made to pass him, Alec noted the quick movement of Magnus’ hand, his eyes followed the motion as the warlock plucked a stele out of Jace’s hand. He flinched as he watched Magnus slip the stele back into Jace’s jeans pocket. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, something akin to jealously. Alec shook his head to clear it; he had to focus, he was on a mission. 

When Magnus turned and led the way up the stairs, Alec attempted to keep his eyes down, trying not to watch the warlock as he mounted the rickety steps.

He only partially succeeded.

The moment they stepped into dimly lit apartment, the group had separated and Alec found himself alone in a sea of Downworlders. None of them seemed to pay him any mind or register the fact that Alec was a Shadowhunter, which allowed him to relax a little. Nonetheless, instinct kicked in and he began to assess his surroundings. Alec quickly located Isabelle and the mundane dancing near the makeshift bar. He found Jace, chatting up a group of fairies; one of them was slipping a garland of flowers over his golden head. He took a step forward towards them and startled as he felt a sharp prick to his backside. Alec jumped back, spinning as he did so and reached for a seraph blade hidden at his back. His fingers had just brushed the hilt when he found himself facing a brown-skinned phouka man in paisley, crooking his fingers and sporting a suggestive grin.

“If you’re looking for a good time, darling,” the phouka said loudly over the music, “come and find me. You won’t regret it.” He winked one brown eye at Alec before sauntering away. Alec gave the phouka a wide-eyed stare as he watched the fairy slip into the crowd. He didn’t quite know what to make of the attention. 

_What the hell just happened?_

Alec wasn’t the type that people noticed, at least he never thought so. Who would want to pay attention to him when Jace and Isabelle were around? Still, it was kind of nice being the object of someone’s attention for a change. Alec had just dropped his arm to his side when Jace suddenly appeared beside him, the garland of flowers glowing at his throat.

“What’s with you?” his parabatai asked, but his tone indicated he wasn’t really looking for an answer. Alec simply shook his head as he followed Jace to where Clary was speaking with Magnus. There was no point in telling Jace what had happened; he wouldn’t understand. The pair made their way towards Clary and Magnus, who spared the boys a glance as they approached. 

Jace had barely started speaking when a booming voice interrupted, calling Magnus’ name just as an angry vampire appeared and shouldered his way through the crowd towards them. Magnus looked bored as the vampire raged about bikes and holy water. The Shadowhunters had casually and discreetly reached for their weapons during the exchange, but they needn’t have bothered; all it took was an imperceptible twitch of a glittery finger and Magnus had the vampire moving on his way. Although he appeared bored with the whole affair, it wasn’t lost on Alec how much raw power Magnus was hiding under all the glitter. 

_That was…impressive. And very attractive._

Before he realized it, Alec had barked out a laugh, quickly covering it behind a hand. The need to impress suddenly gripped him uncontrollably. “We put the holy water in his gas tank, you know,” he said, casting a meaningful glance at Magnus through his lashes. He ignored Jace’s reprimand, instead focusing on the amused glimmer in Magnus’ eye.

“I assumed that,” Magnus stated, leveling his cat-eyed gaze on Alec. The amusement was cut short by Jace’s need to act all authoritative and insist on a private discussion.

Not that he wasn’t right, but Alec had to squash down the desire to kick his parabatai in the knees for ruining a perfectly good mood again. That was now twice in a span of minutes.

Tight-lipped at the prospect of Clave trouble, Magnus led Clary and the boys to his bedroom. There was a brief moment of embarrassment when Alec realized where they were going, but it was quickly smothered by the logic that it was the only room with a level of privacy. Alec stood awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment, unsure suddenly of what to do with his hands. It was more than Shadowhunter training that had Alec noting the scattered bottles on the vanity table, the golden bed sheets that appeared canary yellow in the atmospheric lighting, the heavy velvet curtains blocking the window view. He glanced behind him at Magnus as the door shut, and promptly turned around as the warlock crossed his arms. There was a slow burn of his cheeks, his throat going dry as Magnus’ shirt rode up, revealing the flat smooth skin of his abdomen. It took a moment before Alec felt composed enough to turn and face him again.

“So,” Magnus said, “what’s on your devious little minds?”

Alec listened intently at the exchange between Clary and Magnus, mentally taking note of all the important details about the Sight, Clary’s mother, and complex spells. He was listening and cataloging the information, but his attention was on Magnus. Alec found he couldn’t help but focus on the warlock, especially when he was speaking. 

_He speaks like a New Yorker, but his accent…where is that from? Is it English? There’s something else there…maybe Asian?_

As Magnus exchanged words with Clary, his voice had a certain cadence to it, a youthful vibrance laced with old world wisdom. It was the same juxtaposition with his face; Magnus appeared to be a young man, but his eyes appeared to have seen far more. 

_He’s not like any other Downworlder I’ve met._

At first, Alec had expected to react as he normally did upon encountering Downworlders: disinterested but cautious and wary. He had been taught to distrust the Downworld, to hold them at arm’s length because they could be useful to the Clave but had their own agendas. They could betray you at a moment’s notice the minute you begin to trust them. As such, Alec often held himself tense and alert when dealing with members of the Shadow World. But he didn’t feel any of that with Magnus. He felt jittery and wired but in that pleasantly elated sort of way. Whenever Magnus glanced at or spoke to him, Alec felt a tingle buzz through his nerves; it made him feel awake and alive. He wanted to keep feeling like that.

The talk had taken a turn, and not for the better. Clary had become distraught upon hearing what her mother had asked Magnus to do. She looked lost and angry, saying something about being damaged. That singular word seemed to change something in Magnus. 

“You want to know what it’s like when you happen to be born with the devil’s mark?”

Though his voice was level and calm, Alec could sense the anger - decades of it - laced with loathing in the words Magnus’ spoke. He was speaking directly to Clary, but Alec had the sense Magnus was talking to all three of them. He couldn’t help but listen, his whole body turning towards Magnus as he recalled the tale of his childhood - of a mother taking her own life, a father attempting murder out of fear, of Silent Brothers and sanctuary. It was a past, Alec suspected, most warlocks shared in some shape or another. It was what tended to happen when you were the children of demons. But hearing it from Magnus, imagining this bright soul describe a dark history…it hurt Alec. 

“I hated myself.”

In that moment, Alec wanted nothing more than to take Magnus’ hand in his, speak words of comfort and solace. The urge to do so was strong and it surprised him. Alec only felt such an impulse with his siblings. It was a little more than unusual to feel it for a complete stranger, and a Downworlder at that. 

It was also not going to happen, especially not with Jace and Clary in the room. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Alec said, his voice soft and as reassuring as he could make it. “You can’t help how you’re born.” They were words one expects you to say, and they could often be empty of feeling. But Alec meant them. He turned to Magnus, blue eyes boring into the warlock.

“I’m over it,” Magnus said with finality. Was it a trick of the light, or did he glance Alec’s way with a thankful expression? He didn’t have a chance to consider it further as the discussion moved to the matter of retrieving Clary’s memories. 

Schooling his face into quiet boredom, Alec began to make a slow casual circle of the room. He appeared disinterested as Clary flipped through the battle Gray Book. The reality was Alec was trying to distract himself; if he stood still too long, he was fairly certain he would wind up staring openly at Magnus. He had done this kind of dance before, his eyes cutting sideways glances to other men as they passed him on the streets. One or two had struck his fancy, lingering a little longer in his memory, but never like Magnus. His attention kept diverting to the warlock even when Alec wasn’t trying to think of him. It was ridiculous, really; once this whole busy of Clary’s memories was finished, Alec would likely never see him again. So why was Alec so interested anyway?

Talk turned to unpleasant matters, the air in the room growing heavy. A frown crossed Alec’s face as Valentine was mentioned. Any discussion involving Valentine always turned to talks of the Circle and the Uprising. Alec had heard it all before, but the way Magnus spoke indicated firsthand knowledge. 

_He was there._

Blue eyes flashed in the light, narrowing in suspicion as Alec turned his gaze to Magnus. “Were you at the Uprising?” Alec stood stiffly as Magnus turned to him, cat eyes locking onto him. The golden irises gleamed, pupils constricting into thin slits. There was a challenge in that gaze, one that Alec dared not look away from.

“I was,” Magnus replied. “I killed a number of your folk.” It was a statement, short and precise, and its message was clear: Magnus didn’t think too highly of Shadowhunters in general, and he had no qualms about getting his hands dirty if need be. The notion sent a shiver down Alec’s spine, yet another example of just how much power the High Warlock possessed. Magnus Bane may be handsome, but he wasn’t one to be crossed.

“Circle members,” Alec heard Jace say. “Not ours…”

Magnus didn’t look away from Alec as he spoke, cutting off Jace’s words. “If you insist on disavowing that which is ugly about what you do, you will never learn from your mistakes.” 

It felt like a punch to the chest, those words. Magnus said them in a vague sort of way, but Alec couldn’t help but think they were meant specifically for him, though he didn’t understand their implication. He was the first to look away, sinking down onto the bed near Clary as his eyes darted to the side, an unhappy flush coloring his cheeks. Restless hands picked ideally at the satin coverlet. “You don’t seem surprised to hear that Valentine’s still alive.”

“Are you?”

No, actually Alec wasn’t but he kept silent. A small part of him felt relief when Magnus declared he would rather side with the Clave than Valentine, but it was a brief sensation. 

Alec’s emotions were all a jumble, a confusing cacophony that he could barely make sense of. His feelings, however, were cast aside when he noted the stiff set of Jace’s posture at the mention of party guests potentially murdering one another. 

_Oh hell, not again._

Before his parabatai could do anything he shouldn’t, Alec had risen to his feet and held him back, his fingers gripping tightly to Jace’s shoulder. Alec could feel Jace straining against him; if he wanted, Jace could easily break Alec’s hold, but he didn’t. The moment passed. Alec let go when he felt the change in Jace’s demeanor and heard the whispered request.

“Move it along teenagers.” Magnus had his bedroom door open and stood next to it, a slight scowl on his face as he impatiently snapped his fingers. “The only person who gets to canoodle in my bedroom is my magnificent self.” Alec followed Jace and Clary out and back to the party. As he stepped past, Alec caught a slight tilt of Magnus’ lips as the beginnings of a smirk formed. Despite his earlier apprehension regarding the warlock’s capabilities, Alec found his mind drifting, his focus narrowing on Magnus’ lips.

_I wonder what it would feel like to…_

“Where’s Isabelle?”

Alec scowled; that was the third time. It was as if Jace had an internal geiger counter set to read the atmosphere, killing it just when things were moving towards interesting. It was one of the things Alec absolutely hated about Jace, always killing other people’s good times.

Regathering his focus, Alec turned and instantly spotted his sister, waving her over. “Over here. And watch out for the phouka,” he added as an afterthought as he caught sight of familiar green paisley. Jace was giving him a funny look.

“Watch out for the phouka?”

His shoulders tensed, his eyes focused on Isabelle as she pushed her way towards them. “He pinched me when I passed him earlier,” Alec said. “In a highly personal area.” Jace snorted, a sound Alec chose to pretend he didn’t hear.

“I hate to break it to you, but if he’s interested in your highly personal areas, he probably isn’t interested in your sister’s.”

“Not necessarily.” Alec inhaled sharply, the sound drowned out by the faerie band playing, as Magnus spoke from behind him. He caught the faint scent of…

_Is that sandalwood?_

The skin of his back was beginning to tingle. Magnus stood near enough that Alec could feel the heat radiating off his skin. It was all highly enticing and distracting. 

“Faeries aren’t particular,” Magnus added. The way he said it made Alec think he himself didn’t much mind either, but he didn’t have time to consider the matter further as Isabelle reached them and grabbed Alec’s arm. She began frantically saying something about drinks and rats. It all seemed to have something to do with Simon so Alec chose to let Clary handle it while he tried his best to ignore Magnus, who was still standing rather close to him. 

_All I have to do is turn around. He’s right there. It’s so simple. Turn around, smile, ask him out for a drink. Jace and Izzy ask people out all the time. How hard could it possibly be?_

The prospect of spending some time with the warlock was very appealing. Alec was fairly certain he could spend all night with Magnus and not be bored for a second. 

There was, however, a voice that told him that wanting this - wanting Magnus - was wrong. 

_Downworlders are beneath the children of the Angel. They are demon spawn, the undead, tricksters and deceivers. You cannot trust them._

Alec was a Shadowhunter, and Magnus was half-demon; they weren’t meant to mingle unless it was official Clave business. That was, and always would be, the way of things. But the words Magnus had spoken that night, the way his voice had sounded, gave Alec pause. 

Was this attraction really so wrong? Were Downworlders as awful as the Clave says they are? Two hours ago, Alec could answer both questions with a resolute yes without hesitation. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

As Clary retrieved the now turned into a rat Simon and Magnus went to break up an argument amongst a group of vampires, Alec stood next to Jace as the teens debated on what to do next. They had the information they needed - sort of - so there wasn’t any point hanging around the party. Magnus seemed to agree as he ordered everyone out, his voice taking on a commanding tone that Alec turned instinctively towards. 

“You on your way out?” Magnus said, noticing the Shadowhunters making for the door.

“Don’t want to overstay our welcome,” Jace said with a curt nod. 

There was a wave of a glittery hand, the movement indicating mild annoyance. “What welcome? I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but it wasn’t. Not that you aren’t all fairly charming, and as for you…” Magnus rounded on Alec, the corners of his lips quirking as he winked. “Call me?”

_…..what?_

“I…” Alec felt the heat creeping up his neck and face, his skin staining a bright red. He wanted to look away from Magnus but couldn’t. The warlock was looking at him with a mixture of amusement and interest. Deep down Alec had been hoping for something like this, but the actual invitation came as a shock. He was flattered and ecstatic and elated all at once. If it hadn’t been for Jace grabbing his arm and hauling him away, Alec would have stood on the doorstep gaping all night.

It took half a block before Alec collected himself. Beside him, Isabelle was sniffling and dabbing at her eyes though the expression on her face was borderline angry. “What?” he asked, his tone a little irritable. Isabelle didn’t seem to notice in her current state.

“Nothing,” she said, averting her gaze.

“Izzy…”

“I didn’t mean for him to turn into a rat!” Isabelle rounded on her brother, hiccuping slightly. “I tried to warn him, but Simon just downed the fairy drink before I could do anything. And then…”

Alec sighed, his irritation leaving him with the breath. He was beginning to feel tired and was glad they were heading home. “It’s not your fault. But it ought to teach you not to go to so many Downworld parties. They’re always more trouble than they’re worth.”

Isabelle made an unhappy sound before sniffling loudly. “If anything had happened to him, I-I don’t know what I would have done.”

He had the good grace not to roll his eyes. “Probably whatever it is you did before. It’s not like you knew him all that well.” In fact, none of them did. Clary and Simon had landed in their lives only days before. Alec still couldn’t fathom why they were going through all this trouble for a girl they barely knew.

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t…”

“What? Love him? You need to _know_ someone to love them.” Alec didn’t know much about love, but he didn’t really believe in love at first sight. How do you look at a random person and determine you love them just by that one glance? What if you find out they were a horrible person? Alec just didn’t understand the notion, mostly because he had never experienced it himself - or ever thought he would have the chance.

“But that’s not all it is.” Isabelle sounded sad when she spoke. She turned to her brother, her dark eyes large and hopeful. “Didn’t you have any fun at the party, Alec?”

“No,” he replied flatly. Alec wasn’t about to tell his sister how he really felt about the party.

She stared up at him through her lashes. Isabelle could tell Alec was hiding something. “I thought you might like Magnus.” She waited a breath, gauging Alec’s expression. “He’s nice, isn’t he?”

“Nice?” Alec turned to her, his face incredulous. “Kittens are nice. Warlocks are…” 

_Insanely gorgeous._

He almost said it as he thought back on the sight of Magnus framed in the doorway. Isabelle knew his secret, and he trusted her implicitly. But this…this thing he felt was not something Alec was ready to speak aloud. 

“Not,” he said finally, trying not to flinch at his own lame attempt at covering his real thoughts.

“I thought you might hit it off. Get to be friends.” The streetlight caught the glitter in Isabelle’s makeup, causing it to sparkle in the night. That tiny sparks dragged Alec’s mind back to thoughts of Magnus, and they were all aflutter; he had to wrench his mind back to the present in an effort to keep his face a mask of calm.

“I have friends,” he replied. Alec turned then, looking over his shoulder at Jace. As he watched his parabatai speak with Clary, Alec thought he felt a change in Jace. 

_Something’s different about him…_

No, it wasn’t Jace; it was Alec. Something had happened at the party, something he didn’t understand. Whenever he looked to Jace, Alec had always felt drawn to his golden presence. During studies or in battle, his often attention swung in Jace’s direction. It still did even now, but it was somehow different. The feeling was muted, not as intense as he remembered it to be. 

Love - Isabelle talked about it often. Whenever the topic was brought up before, Alec had always thought of Jace. He had always assumed that if he could freely express himself, he would declare how he felt to his parabatai, consequences be damned. Now, he wasn’t so sure. When Isabelle had mentioned Magnus, Alec had felt a warmth spread under his skin. When he thought of the warlock, imagined his face in his mind, Alec couldn’t breathe. His heart beat just a little faster, as if he had been sparring. It was difficult to think, difficult to concentrate. 

So many possibilities…Alec could begin to see them all. 

_What if we could try_? _What if we could look past all our differences, and just try?_

The notion that he could even consider seeing someone like Magnus…

_No._

Alec willed himself to stop considering it, stop the hopeful fluttering in his stomach. It was partially the Downworlder aspect, but mostly the fact that Magnus was a man. No, it was impossible. Alec was a Shadowhunter, and Shadowhunters didn’t feel that way. It was best if he didn’t dwell on thoughts of Magnus.

Besides, there wasn’t any chance Alec would see him again. It was impossible. Better to forget and do his Angelic duty.

With an inward sigh, Alec slid his hands into his pockets as he walked next to Isabelle, Jace and Clary just behind them. Back to the Institute, back to his life of secrecy, back to his duty as Nephilium. It would all be better if he just forgot this night even happened.


End file.
